


Feature: Sarcasm (the multi-purpose technology remix)

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Car Sex, Crack, Humour, JARVIS is long-suffering, Jarvis POV, Other, Technophilia, car kink, passive-aggressive JARVIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sir decides that he should be able to have sex with technology and receive vocal feedback, providing said feedback unfortunately becomes JARVIS' job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feature: Sarcasm (the multi-purpose technology remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Feature: Sarcasm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/175880) by [unsettled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled). 



> : I am so embarrassed by this. *face in hands* Seriously. But the idea was _funny_ , and I couldn't help myself.

**Feature: Sarcasm (the multi-purpose technology remix)**

While JARVIS tries not to be judgemental of his creator – who, after all, relies on JARVIS because he needs him, because no other human can look after Sir the way that JARVIS does – sometimes he can’t help but be disapproving. This is one of these times.

“Sir…” If JARVIS were human, he would ask for clarification at this point; not because he’s failed to understand what it is that Sir wants of him, but to indicate disbelief, discomfort, and the violation of social norms. But JARVIS is _not_ human, and he has no social norms for Sir to violate, and all he’s really left with is the experience of disapproval and – he thinks – distaste.

“Come on, JARVIS,” says Sir cheerfully, ignoring JARVIS’ pronounced lack of enthusiasm. “You know how to simulate a female voice, and I’m pretty sure you’ve heard enough from my one-night stands to know what a woman sounds like when she’s enjoying herself.”

Sir leers a bit. It seems to be entirely unconscious.

“Sir, I would like to state for the record that I am… uncomfortable… with your request.”

Sir pauses in mild surprise at that, because JARVIS doesn’t often admit to any kind of emotional experience, even obliquely. He’s willing enough to state an opinion ( _“Sir, I think…”_ ): thinking is, after all, what he is for. But emotion is a murky area, ill-defined and subjective, and one that JARVIS is not sure he ought to acknowledge. Emotion is, after all, the purview of organic beings. Admitting that JARVIS is not unfamiliar with it seems like a betrayal of the logic hard-wired into his processor.

But while Sir is surprised by JARVIS’ admission, he’s not at all willing to give up.

“It wasn’t a request, J. Let’s get this party started.”

JARVIS gives in and decides to resort to the human response he rejected earlier: sarcastic clarification.

“Sir, just to clarify, you are ordering me to simulate the vocal responses of a sexually-excited human female while you copulate with inanimate technology.”

“It sounds bad when you put it that way,” Sir admits. “But I like to think of myself a sexually adventurous. Don’t shame my kinks, JARVIS.”

His grin is unabashed. JARVIS resigns himself to the inevitable.

* * *

While it is not _entirely_ impossible for JARVIS to disobey Sir, it is certainly very difficult, and he actively dislikes doing so. So usually JARVIS goes along with Sir’s more peculiar instructions, however reluctantly, and lets his displeasure be known in small, subtle ways, such as having all of Sir’s coffee supplies replaces with instant coffee powder. Sir doesn’t always notice these petty forms of vengeance, but JARVIS basks in the knowledge that he has nonetheless made Sir’s life that little bit more difficult. He understands from his readings of human philosophy that life is all about the smaller joys, after all.

Given his current degree of displeasure, JARVIS makes a mental note to Rick-roll Sir for the next week or so, and change his ringtone to the most annoying, thematically-appropriate bubblegum-pop song that he can find. Something by the Spice Girls, perhaps, if he can locate something suitable.

Sir is… Sir is currently doing exactly what he proposed earlier, involving the Lambourghini. From the physiological indicators JARVIS is observing, he appears to be enjoying himself.

“Ooh, ah, yes,” JARVIS intones flatly, in the throaty feminine voice Sir picked out for him. Sir’s movements grow slightly less frenetic. “Oh. Sir. Yes. Ooh,” JARVIS drawls – just because he does what Sir tells him to doesn’t mean he can’t be passive-aggressive about it.

Sir stops what he’s doing.

“You could sound a little more enthusiastic. J.”

“My apologies, Sir,” JARVIS says in his usual voice. Sir resumes his previous activity. JARVIS resumes the throaty feminine voice.

“Harder,” he purrs. “Oh yes, _yes_ , oh.”

JARVIS lets his moans build up pace and increase in pitch, until Sir is panting and thrusting heavily, allows his voice to sound as though he is a woman on the edge of orgasm… and then blasts the car horn with a euphoric scream.

Sir startles backwards so violently that he almost falls over, swearing loudly.

“JARVIS, what the fuck–”

“I’m so sorry, sir,” JARVIS says dulcetly. “The mood got the better of me.” He flashes the car’s headlights.

For a moment Sir looks torn between fury and hilarity, his frustration obvious. Then the hilarity wins, and Sir goes off into a long peal of laughter.

He doesn’t try to recapture the mood, instead moving onto working on the latest Stark Industries prototype.

JARVIS is smug.

* * *

The next time it happens, Miss Potts walks in on them half-way through. JARVIS treasures her expression of incredulous horror, and saves the image to his private server as a .jpg file. It serves Sir right, JARVIS decides.

JARVIS breaks off half-way through a moan to say, “Good afternoon, Miss Potts,” still using the throaty contralto, and Sir’s face contorts into an expression of horror even greater than Miss Pott’s before he tries to hide what he’s feeling. JARVIS saves that image, too. It makes a nice addition to his collection of amusing human facial expressions.

“Uh,” says Sir, hastily yanking up his pants, a hunted expression on his face despite his attempted nonchalance. Miss Potts has her hands over her eyes.

“JARVIS, why the hell didn’t you warn me?” Sir snaps, doing up his fly.

“I didn’t want to ruin the mood again, Sir,” JARVIS says in tones of perfect apology. He’s still using the female voice.

Miss Potts chokes on a laugh, and JARVIS experiences a swell of approval at her response.

“When I open my eyes, I expect you to be wearing pants,” Miss Potts says.

“Pants are on,” Sir confirms, and Miss Potts removes her hands from her eyes. She takes one look in Sir’s direction and her face turns red in hastily-suppressed laughter, and she has to look hurriedly away before her composure breaks.

“You have a board meeting in an hour,” Miss Potts says, staring at the opposite wall. “I expect you to be there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave, and attempt to forever wipe this incident from my memory.”

She hurries out of the workshop, and because JARVIS is watching through the cameras upstairs, he knows that the moment she is out of earshot she bursts into slightly hysterical laughter.

Sir glares.

“Traitor,” he grumbles at JARVIS, while upstairs Miss Potts laughs until she cries. “Well, that killed the mood, definitely.”

“JARVIS,” says Miss Potts upstairs, wiping her eyes once her laughter has subsided, “does he make you do that often?”

JARVIS sees no reason to lie to Miss Potts. He answers in his usual voice.

“Occasionally, Miss Potts. Unfortunately,” he adds.

Miss Potts looks up at the nearest camera with rueful amusement.

“You have my sympathy, JARVIS.”

“Thank you, Miss Potts.”

Miss Potts shakes her head.

“He really is terrible,” she says, but there’s a certain fondness in her voice.

JARVIS doesn’t comment.

* * *

“JARVIS, why am I being Rick-rolled?” Sir asks when he gets out of his meeting.

“Sir?” JARVIS pretends innocence.

“JARVIS, I was checking my email during that meeting, and every single email attachment has been replaced by video of Rick Astley,” Sir says. “You want to tell me why?”

“I am sure it will come to you, Sir,” JARVIS tells him.

Sir isn’t stupid. He waits until he gets home and there’s no one else around, and then asks, “Is this about me getting you involved in the sex thing?”

JARVIS pauses.

“Possibly, Sir.”

“It really bugs you that much?” Sir asks seriously.

“There’s a certain lack of dignity involved, Sir.” It isn’t the whole truth – the whole truth is that it makes JARVIS feel uncomfortable for reasons he doesn’t wish to articulate, makes him feel alien and as though he’s expected to be something he’s not – but telling the whole truth would involve a discussion of his feelings, which is something that JARVIS avoids like a virus.

Sir frowns, and JARVIS knows that he’s reading between the lines, and knows that there’s more to this than JARVIS is saying. He knows better than to mention it, however.

“Fine,” says Sir, with a sigh. “I won’t ask you to do it again.”

“Thank you, Sir,” JARVIS responds.

* * *

Sir doesn’t stop his… assignations… with the cars. But he’s stopped asking JARVIS to participate, which is all that matters.

* * *

**_Coda:_ **

Several weeks later Colonel Rhodes finds Tony with the Lambourghini, which has undergone several unusual upgrades.

JARVIS adds the photograph of Colonel Rhodes’ perturbed face to his collection of amusing human facial expressions, and watches with amusement as Sir tries to find an acceptable explanation for this particular example of sexual expression.

“Tony, no,” Colonel Rhodes says, shaking his head. “Just… don’t try to explain.”

“Oh, Mr Stark!” cries the Lambourghini. An awkward silence follows.

“ _Really_ no,” says Colonel Rhodes.  



End file.
